For Blue Skies
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'New York was bracing for a hurricane and Kate Beckett was terribly ill prepared. But she was even less prepared to see Richard Castle again after a summer of silence.' Set late in the summer, post season 2.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Set in the summer after season two.**

* * *

New York was bracing for a hurricane and Kate Beckett was terribly ill prepared. The newscasts had been predicting the storm for the last week, warning residents who refused to evacuate to stock up and buckle in for the storm, but with disaster came a rise in crime, of criminals taking advantage of the building hysteria, and Detective Beckett had lost her window of opportunity.

Which is how she has ended up in an overly packed supermarket, maneuvering through the frenzy of last minute shoppers scavenging for supplies. The shelves were practically bare as it was, the majority of necessary bad weather essentials picked clean, but she had managed to haul one of the final packs of bottled water into her shopping cart, along with a small packet of batteries and some canned goods she wouldn't mind surviving on. She may not have a choice if the memory of her empty fridge is any indication.

Kate chews on her lip at the picture of the naked shelves and drawers in her mind, the matching image her pantry displays, and glances back towards the grocery section she just managed to get out of alive. The stock of non-perishable goods isn't great, she's lucky she was able to snag what's currently in her cart, and delving back into the sea of shoppers probably wouldn't even be worth it.

She sighs and ventures back towards the shrinking section of appliances and miscellaneous items set on display, contemplates a few of the cheap candles just in case she loses power and runs out of batteries, but just as she's reaching for the sticks of wax, another cart crashes into hers.

"Seriously?" she snaps, jerking her gaze to the offending cart and the owner hastily attempting to dislodge the wheels jammed into hers, but her irritation drains with the color from her face.

"I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't mean to…" Castle's apologies trail as he lifts his eyes to meet her, his lips parting with surprise. "Beckett."

For a second too long, they stand there like two survivors in the aftermath of a car crash, no airbags to soften the impact, to mute the riot in her head growing louder, to silence the sound of demolition.

Her stomach has dropped out, left her with the hollow feeling of nausea, with the memory of having the rug swept out from under her feet after she had tricked herself into thinking there was hope in their story, that there was anything more to the concept of 'them' at all. She didn't even like him, sure as hell didn't love him, so why does it feel as if she's come face to face with a man who broke her heart without even trying?

The chaos of the busy shopping center whirrs and swells around them and Kate blinks, recovering from the collision, and tugs on the handle of her basket to steer it away from him, far away from him.

"Beckett," he calls again, about to abandon his cart to intercept her, and oh, bad idea, Castle.

"Don't," she snaps, sharper than she had intended, but it gets the job done, stays him. "Your stuff. People will grab it straight from your cart."

Clarity ripples in his startled blue eyes and he glances back to the meager haul of survival goods similar to hers. He clutches his shopping basket a little tighter, but his eyes return to her, so bright and simmering with something akin to excitement.

"You're back?" She hadn't meant for it to come out like a question, hadn't meant to say the words at all, but - too late, his gaze is back on her, intense and curious.

"Yeah, drove back earlier this week, when I heard about the storm," he replies, trying and failing to be subtle in his assessment of her, in the way his eyes greedily roam from her face down to the toes of her sneakers.

Beckett shifts under his stare, her attire of dark denim jeans and a thin t-shirt suddenly not enough, and Castle notices. Of course he notices. The smile he offers is apologetic, friendly, but her frown only deepens. She realizes it's selfish, petty even, to bristle at the knowledge that he's been back in her city and failed to call her when so many more important, potentially catastrophic issues are at hand, but a sliver of hurt has still managed to embed itself in her treacherous heart muscle.

"I was going to call," he adds, as if he's read her mind, damn him, and Castle angles his shopping cart to sweep along the side of hers, to move in a few steps closer. She fights the urge to back away. "Today, actually. I wanted to make sure you were prepared for the hurricane." His eyes dart down the contents of her cart. "Please tell me your place is stocked with more than this."

Beckett huffs. "None of your concern, Castle."

A wounded look flickers across his face at that, lies along the shadows of his skin, before resignation fills his features, and she doesn't understand the dizzying slideshow of emotions until he speaks. "You're right. I'm sure Demming has you guys well-prepared."

The statement isn't passive aggressive or bitter, not even close to the former remarks he used to make in the precinct about her relationship with the robbery detective. No, he's genuinely attempting to be kind, respectful towards a man she hasn't spoken to since the day Castle left for the Hamptons.

She finds she doesn't like it.

"I wouldn't know how Tom would handle a situation like this." She shrugs, reaching for those candlesticks she abandoned while hiding a smile, not having to see him to know his reaction.

"You… you broke up?" he asks, clearing his throat to eradicate the pleased note of delight she's already caught sound of.

"Shouldn't you be finishing up? I'm sure Gina's waiting," she tosses back, forcing the neutral expression to hold, berating herself for the stupid words that keep flooding from her mouth without permission.

He doesn't answer and she cuts her gaze to him, feels the blush threaten to climb her neck at the raised brow he's sporting.

"Only person waiting for me is Alexis," he informs her, a familiar smirk flirting with the corner of his mouth. "Perhaps my mother as well, unless she really did decide to weather the storm with Chet like she had planned. You never know with her."

The relief that splashes through her bloodstream makes her nauseous.

"You look good."

No use attempting to stop the flush of crimson likely traveling up her neck now. She sighs and allows her lips to quirk for him. "You look good too."

The joy that blossoms in his eyes, radiates onto every inch of his face almost makes it all worth it, almost has her forgetting the last three months without him.

"Are you about done?"

Kate assesses the items in her cart, decides it's likely the most prepared she's going to get, and nods. "Yeah, this'll have to do."

"Please tell me that I am wrong in assuming you have no food in your apartment right now."

"You're wrong in assuming I have no food in my apartment right now," she parrots, dodging a fellow shopper flying past them before merging into the human traffic consuming the store.

Castle falls into step beside her, the rounded edge of a shoulder coming into contact with hers as they head for the crowded checkout area side by side.

"You're not a good liar," he sighs, but Kate rolls her eyes, the indignation flaring up in her chest again where it's remained alive and stewing all summer. "Kate, you can't endure a category two hurricane with minimal supplies. Haven't you seen the news reports? We're supposed to have power outages and potential flooding. What if you get trapped in your apartment for days? What if-"

"Castle," she growls, but the possibilities his 'what if's have conjured up start to form in her mind, tugging at the worry and threatening paranoia she's managed to keep at bay since this entire ordeal began.

"Stay with us."

The wheels of her cart come to a stop along with her, the head of another shopping basket colliding hard with her lower back. Kate jerks, fails to bite back the sharp yelp at the bloom of pain along her tailbone. Shit, that's going to bruise.

"Hey!" Castle's hand flies to cover the small of her back, the warmth of his palm like a balm to her throbbing skin that causes the burn of pain to intensify. "Watch it," he snaps at the unapologetic man who ran into her, receiving a mutter of curses in response. "Sorry, my fault, are you okay?"

Kate nods as they recover their pace towards the checkout lane and his hand hesitantly falls away. She just wants to get out of here, out of the obscene mass of people crammed inside the shopping center, out of Castle's reach. They fall into the shortest line they can find, but it'll still take awhile before they're even close to checking out, and her hopes of escaping him, and his offer, quickly begin to slip away.

"We have a guest room. One you're well acquainted with," he reminds her, but she doesn't want to remember. She doesn't want to think about how easy it was to settle into his home with him and his family, how shockingly pleasant it was to wake up and have breakfast with him before work every morning, to share a glass of wine with him on the couch after dinner.

She doesn't want to remember the days she really started to fall for Richard Castle.

"We can run by your place after this, before it gets too bad out there." His head tilts towards the sliding glass doors that allow them to see the growing drizzle outside. All of the weather reports claim the storm will make landfall in the city later tonight, in a matter of hours, that the scattered showers that have been coating the streets of Manhattan on and off for the last few hours are just the preshow. "Grab enough stuff for you to stay over a couple of days-"

"I'll be fine at my place, Castle," she assures him, even though she may not be, even though a small, defiant part of her wants fiercely to tell him yes.

They inch forward with the crowd, one step closer to freedom.

"Beckett, can't you see this is a sign from the universe?" She gives him her attention at that, doing her best to subdue the amusement hitching her brow and curving along her mouth. "A sign from the universe in the form of a tropical storm telling us that we need to band together to survive this natural disaster in one piece."

"That's weak, even for you," she mutters, training her eyes on the checkout counter that's steadily becoming a more tangible goal.

"I respect the universe," he argues with his chin held high and she's forced to bite back another smile. It shouldn't be this easy for him to make her smile again.

He spends the next half hour coming up with preposterous reasons as to why she should stay in his loft, crazy theories and silly perks, even continuing to needle her with the option when they finally make it to the cash register. She's confused why he's standing at her side while the frazzled woman behind the register rallies up her total, until she studies the amount of bagged items now sitting in her cart, notices with horror that he managed to distract her long enough to mix their purchases on the moving conveyor belt. Her jaw drops in protest, but he's already reaching over her shoulder, swiping his credit card and scribbling his signature on the machine in front of the counter.

"Richard Castle," she growls, prepared to smack the smug grin from his face with her fist.

"Consider it my apology for not calling sooner," he winks and she does hit him this time, socks him hard in the arm, but even though he winces, his smirk doesn't fade.

"You don't owe me any-"

"C'mon Beckett, we're holding up the line and the rain is getting harder." She purses her lips to refrain from snarling at him when he places his hand to the fresh sore spot still pulsing at the base of her spine and remains glued to her side as they navigate through the worsening flock of panicking civilians flooding into the store.

Kate had walked the feasible distance from her apartment, planning to hail a cab back, but Castle leads her to a suburban parked along the sidewalk once they're free of the supermarket and submerged in the rain and she finds herself following before she can think better of it. Her former shadow instructs her to get in the car while he loads their combined groceries into the back of the vehicle, but she ignores his suggestion, follows him around to the trunk of the tan SUV and helps slip the slew of hefty, reusable bags hanging from his arms.

Castle shakes his head at her, the water droplets clinging to his bangs cascading down his cheeks, but he doesn't reject her assistance. They make quick work of arranging the bags of food and supplies in the back while the misting shower of rain morphs into a downpour that soaks through her clothes in the five seconds it takes race from the trunk to the passenger seat.

The ends of her hair drip water all over the leather seats, the rain from her clothes seeping onto the interior, forming a puddle around her thighs, but Castle doesn't seem to care. He starts the car with a shudder, powers on the heat even though it's the middle of August, and sits back for a moment, rolls his head towards her and beams at her with that crooked grin he tends to hide from the rest of the world, like there's no place else he would rather be.

The urge to kiss him flares up hot and sudden, sucker punches her right in the gut, and she has to look away, fix her gaze on the pelting rain assaulting the glass of her window. Castle doesn't call her out on the avoidance tactic, merely puts the car in drive and pulls out into the atrocious horde of traffic.

"Castle, what you did in there… it wasn't okay," she murmurs, crossing her arms and biting back the shiver the chilled fabric of her bra sealing against her skin evokes. "You can't just guilt me into staying with you by paying for my stuff without permission."

He tears his eyes from the road – they're hardly moving anyway, their pace even slower than it was inside the supermarket – and without even looking at him, she feels his startled gaze piercing through her, hooking in her throat and making it hard to swallow.

"You think - you think I did that so you'd have to _owe_ me?" She doesn't answer; it's answer enough and she hears him scoff, sneaks a glance at him and oh, oh she hurt his feelings with that, didn't she?

"Rick-"

"I would never… that wasn't-" He huffs and scrapes a hand through the soaked mop of his hair before pursing his lips, that dull resignation from earlier back and settling in his eyes, painting them from blue to grey. "You're right. What I did in there was arrogant and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Kate slides her gaze back to him, gentle surprise swirling in her chest at the sincerity that fills the frown lines of his mouth. But there shouldn't be frown lines there to begin with, not because of her.

The only thing that makes her truly uncomfortable is the awkward silence that joins them in the car after that, tags along for the forty-minute stop and go drive to her apartment. Castle doesn't shift the gearstick into park once they're stopped outside the crappy sublet she's been staying in since her apartment blew up earlier in the year. He's been here before, insisted on helping her move in the meager amount of belongings that had survived the bombing; he had never approved of the place, of the lack of space and security the building offered, and the displeased glimmer in his eyes assures her that his opinion hasn't changed.

"Just be safe, okay?" he murmurs, diverting his eyes to the fingers curled around the steering wheel. "And if you need anything, just call me and I'll-"

"Why would I need to call you if I'll be right upstairs?"

She snags her bottom lip with her teeth as she watches his brow furrow, right before his eyes grow wide with understanding and his head is whipping towards her. "You mean… you're going to stay?"

It's a bad idea, the worst she's had since she decided to spill her feelings to him and ended up with her words still trapped in her teeth and her heart bloodied and battered on the precinct floor while he walked away with his ex-wife under his arm, but her entire summer has consisted of late nights staring at the ceiling, wondering 'if only'. She doesn't need another scenario to add to the list.

Kate shrugs, allows the upwards tug at the corner of her mouth. "I respect the universe."


	2. Chapter 2

He waits in the car while she dashes through the rain into her apartment building to pack a bag. Because she's coming to stay at the loft, ride out the storm with him and his daughter (oh, he should probably let her know they're having a house guest), and he's still dazed that she said yes. That despite the lack of communication and the lingering bitterness he knows she retains, they can fall back into old patterns of banter and hidden smiles.

Castle sighs, a little too dreamily, but she isn't here to see it so he doesn't swallow it down as he rests his temple to the doorjamb and daydreams about the way she bites her bottom lip. How he wishes she would bite his next.

He's missed her.

He missed her from the moment he turned his back on her in the precinct, walked away from her with Gina pressed to his side and a sinking feeling in his stomach, the strange look of desolation in her eyes remaining imprinted on the backs of his. He wants to ask, wants to inquire about what it was she had really meant to say to him that day before Gina had shown up, because there had been more, more than _Have a great summer_ and _See you in the fall_ , so much more to that crestfallen expression on her face that he had purposely ignored.

Movement from her building catches his eye, the harsh slam of a door slicing through the bellowing wind, and he curses, grapples with his door in his haste to exit the SUV and help her get her into the vehicle before she blows away.

"Castle, get back in the car," she snaps, but she's not the cop here, can't tell him to stay in the car when she's off duty, not that he would listen anyway, so he fights through the sheets of rain and the gusts of wind to snag her hand.

He hears her irritated growl of disapproval, but she knows it's already too late, pointless to reprimand him now, and her fingers flex until their palms are kissing firm and secure.

The wind has picked up substantially in the near hour it took for them to navigate through the panicked streets of Manhattan, the drive to her apartment twice as long as it normally would have been, even in heavy traffic. Natural disasters tend to evoke a kind of fear that cannot be eased or controlled, a paranoia that can drive people mad, make them thoughtless, and he's already witnessed it one too many times since the major news reports started three days ago. A hurricane is not a force that can be reckoned with, can't be tamed or talked out of its destruction; it kills without cause. The most careless kind of murderer.

Castle maintains a tight grip on her hand as they stagger from her building to the sidewalk. The resistance of the wind has them wobbling, the growing puddles on the concrete slipping him up more than once, and he breathes a sigh of relief once his free hand is curling around the door handle again. She doesn't fight him when he takes her duffel bag from her arm, squeezing his fingers instead before he has to let her go so she can make her way around to the passenger side.

He tosses her overnight bag in the backseat as he climbs back inside the suburban he tends to reserve for summer long trips to the Hamptons, slamming his door shut and impatiently waiting for Kate to join him. She struggles with the passenger door, the thick slab of steel nearly swinging off its hinges with the force of the wind when she pries it open, but her upper body strength is impressive and she tugs the door shut with an effective jerk.

"You okay?" he asks, almost reaching for her rain-drenched arm, but thinking better of it before she can notice. She's still so wary of him, still holding herself away every time he gets too close, so he attempts to give her space, to remember that his three months of absence shook over a year's worth of progress.

Kate exhales long and heavy, drops her head back against the leather headrest and closes her eyes. He does his best to ignore the lovely line of her throat, the kiss of her dark lashes to pale skin of her cheeks, and the outline of her bra beneath her slick t-shirt as her chest heaves.

"It's like resistance training," she says, peeling her eyes open to assess the whirlwind of flying rain past the windshield, the threatening clouds coloring the sky an ominous grey. "I almost forget how strong the wind can be."

"I could tell," he chuckles, returning the car to drive and checking his mirrors as he merges into the ongoing traffic once more. Getting back to the loft will likely take a good half hour.

"I would have made it," she mutters, a little petulant much to his surprise, and his lips quirk. "Didn't have to come play hero."

"No heroes, just partners," he muses, feeling the almost imperceptible touch of her gaze on him.

"Partner, huh?" Her voice holds a challenge, but not distaste, no protest or immediate denial, so he nods, feigning more confidence than he actually feels.

"Or your plucky sidekick, whichever you prefer," he shrugs, expecting agreement at the more suitable term, but that's the opposite of what he receives.

"No," she murmurs, so soft he almost doesn't catch the word over the strike of rain and the howl of wind against the car. "Plucky sidekick always gets killed."

They stop at a traffic light swinging precariously from its wiring and Castle succumbs to the risk of extending his hand towards her, sweeping a wet strand of hair from her cheek and tucking the dripping lock behind the chilled shell of her ear.

Beckett's eyes cut to him, sharp but steady, holding his gaze with breathtaking flickers of green and gold lighting up her eyes.

"Partner it is."

* * *

The chill of the rainwater has seeped through her clothes, through her skin, settled deep in her bones and sealed there by the slap of the wind. Castle's arm is around her waist, the reusable bags from the store bumping against her thigh and hip, but she's too eager to get inside his building to care about the touch she would never otherwise allow. Not yet.

Rainwater is starting to flood the streets, licking at car tires and taunting at the lifted edges of the sidewalk, and it's starting to scare her how quickly the water is rising, how the wind is reaching higher levels of speed by the minute. The city has experienced quite a few severe storms over the years but this? This mixture of wind and rain was slowly but surely spiraling out of control.

Castle's doorman sees them coming and shoulders open the door, greeting them with a strained smile, but just before they can step inside, the harsh crash of metal on metal has her gaze snapping past Castle's shoulder, over to the street where two cars have just collided. Horror ripples up her ribcage to constrict her lungs, adrenaline drumming to life in her bloodstream, and she almost tears free from Castle's arm, goes to the victims of the accident, but he tightens his hold.

"Beckett, don't," he practically shouts over the deafening wail of the storm, but her eyes remain on the cars, the front of a taxi speared into the passenger side of a tiny minivan, which looks empty. The noose around her airway loosens a little, releasing even more at the sight of red and blue and the scream of familiar sirens in the near distance. " _Kate_."

She hooks her arm around Castle's waist and pushes forward the last few feet to enter his building.

* * *

Rick's arm is still coiled around the slim circle of her waist as they trudge their way into the elevator. He places the dripping bags of supplies on the floor with a sigh of relief and punches the button for the fourth floor, but Kate doesn't move, her knuckles white around the shopping bags she hauled in with him, her eyes downcast.

"Beckett," he murmurs, prying the two bags she managed to carry in from the stiff bones of her fingers. She's still shaken from the wreck they had witnessed mere minutes ago outside, he knows that - the sick crunch of metal and screech of car horns still replaying in her mind… or at least, it is for him. The worse the weather becomes, the worsening chance for accidents to happen, but to have a clear view of the chaos, to watch helpless and afraid, is rattling. "Kate." 

That earns him a flicker of her lids, the travel of her eyes to his, a storm brewing in her gaze.

"I could have helped them," she states, but her voice is wavering in a way he's only ever heard in the rare instances where she's come close to tears. "I could have-"

"Yes," he agrees, using his freed hands to palm the hunched bones of her shoulders, soothing them down with the back and forth stroke of his thumb to her biceps. "If the cops wouldn't have been so close, we would have helped them."

She takes a deep breath, nodding along, but her bottom lip is trembling beneath the trap of her teeth. She looks so vulnerable like this, drenched to the bone in rain with her hair dark and clinging to the pale hollows of her cheeks, the column of her throat, and he wants to coax her into his chest, bundle her up there and hold her until her body no longer shivers and her mind is no longer so obviously troubled.

But the elevator doors part before he can take advantage of the opportunity and he drops his hands, gathers up the supplies on the floor and shoots her a small smile when she bends to help him, feeling the relief flutter in his chest at the upturn of lips he receives in return.

The squelch of their shoes and the slosh of water he can feel within his makes him cringe, but Beckett only laughs at him, steals an extra bag from the crook of his elbow when he struggles to dig his house key from his pocket.

"Oh Dad, thank goodness," his daughter exclaims before he's even stepped inside, still in the doorway as she races forward to throw her arms around his neck. "You were gone for so long and I was worried that - oh, hi Detective Beckett!"

Castle huffs a quiet laugh and nudges Alexis backwards so they can allow Kate inside. He relieves her of her soaked duffel, hoping all of the items inside remained protected from the threat of water damage, and places it on the floor near the coat closet.

"Pumpkin, would you mind grabbing some towels?"

"Yeah, of course," Alexis chirps, but her eyes are sly when he stands from depositing their grocery bags to the ground, her lips curling into a coy smile as she trots towards the laundry room.

"You sure this is okay?"

Castle checks over his shoulder to find Beckett looking uncertain again, dividing her gaze between him and the hallway at her back.

"Positive," he states, reaching past her to click the front door shut.

She rolls her eyes at him for that, but a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth just as his daughter reappears with an armful of towels, handing one to him and another to Beckett. "You guys must have really been in the thick of it. Where'd you run into each other? Unless, you'd planned to meet up…?"

"No, we definitely ran into each other," Kate chuckles, scrubbing the towel over her hair, catching the edges between the material and squeezing the worst of the moisture from the locks. "Your dad crashed his shopping cart into mine while I was trying to grab some last minute supplies."

"It wasn't my fault!" Castle protests, mimicking her actions and making his best attempt at towel drying his hair. "It was a bloodbath in there. I was getting shoved all over the place."

"Such a trooper," Alexis teases, snagging a couple of the bags from the floor and hauling them to the sink.

" _Anyway_ ," Castle drawls, following Alexis's lead and draping his towel around his neck, scooping the rest of their bags from the foyer floor. "After fate reunited us, I managed to finally convince Detective Beckett that weathering the storm with us in our well-stocked, fortress of an apartment was a much safer option than going it alone. "

"That's one way to tell it, Castle," Beckett mutters, bumping his shoulder while she glides past him to help Alexis dry the contents in their combined shopping bags in the sink.

"Well, I'm glad you're here, Detective Beckett," Alexis smiles, so bright and friendly and contagious that Becket smiles back. "It's good to see you again."

"Call me Kate, Alexis," Beckett corrects with that lovely smile still intact and his heart stumbles against his ribs when she aims it at him. "And so am I."


	3. Chapter 3

Beckett extracts the contents of her duffel from the sopping suitcase and places the box that holds her mother's ring and her father's watch atop the made up bed in the guest room, laying the armful of clothes along the comforter, transferring her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash she packed into the adjoining bathroom and stripping from her wet clothes while she's there.

After assisting Alexis in drying off the modest amount of supplies they had hauled inside and volunteering to help his daughter put away the canned goods in an already overflowing pantry ("Jeez, Castle. Were you preparing for a hurricane or the apocalypse?" She had teased, receiving a smug "both" in response), Beckett had excused herself to the guest room. Castle had mentioned a strong possibility of power outages across the city and she craved a hot shower and the use of blow dryer before they were left in the dark.

Kate turns the water nozzles, adjusting the silver knob marked with red a little more insistently before stepping into the familiar shower with a soft hum of pleasure. The hot water is glorious on her skin, eradicating the deep chill of the wind and the rain, cleansing the stench of disaster from her hair. She takes her time working the shampoo and conditioner through the locks, scraping her nails along her aching scalp in hopes of loosening the knots of tension at the base of her skull, her neck.

Castle's hands would do a better job, her brain absentmindedly considers, those large palms and thick fingers-

Kate scoffs at herself and drops her hands from the wet tangles of her hair, snatches the body wash from the shower caddy and lathers the cherry scented soap along her skin. She's just rinsing off, watching the suds gather at her toes when an ear-splitting crackle of thunder has her jumping, thrusting a hand to the side to catch herself on the slick tile before she can stumble into the glass door.

She's still for a second, waiting for her heartbeat to slow and for her fingers to steady, and then she's cutting off the water, sliding the fogged glass aside and tiptoeing onto the fluffy blue bathmat. The towels are in the same cabinet she remembers from her last stay here and she withdraws two from the middle shelf, wrapping one around her body while the other cocoons her hair.

The thunder continues to rumble outside, the minutes between the booming crashes growing shorter, turning into only handfuls of seconds, and she retrieves the blow dryer Alexis leant her last time, retracting it from the drawer of the vanity and plugging it into the wall.

Her hair has grown longer over the summer, whispering at her shoulders now, but the time it takes her to dry the lengthening strands is still minimal and she's almost finished when the persistent rapping on the bathroom door has her powering the machine off.

"Beckett? Are you okay in there?"

Kate huffs, but her heart traitorously softens just a little at the concern in his voice.

"Yeah, Castle. Just finishing up."

"Oh, good. I – I heard it wasn't good to be in water during thunderstorms," he informs her from the other side of the door and her lips twist in a grin. "Also, I noticed your bag is still pretty damp, did you want me to maybe hang it up to dry in the laundry room?"

It's silly, nonsense really, but her heart swells with affection at the offer. He's just being considerate, a good host like he would to any other guest, but she almost forgot about this part of him, about how sweet the man behind the jackass image is, how close to wonderful he can be when he's not unintentionally ripping her heart out.

"Beckett?"

"Yeah, that'd be good, thanks."

"Any wet clothes you want me to take with me?" he calls, and she can hear him moving in around the guest room, gathering her duffel from the floor. Her eyes drift to the pile of sopping clothes she placed in the sink before her shower, rings the excess water from them with her hands and gathers them against her chest… her towel clad chest. She left her clothes out there.

Kate purses her lips, weighs the pros and cons of allowing him to see her in nothing but a towel, and really, he's seen her in far less before, claimed to have the image burned into his brain.

She coils her fingers around the door handle before she can conjure up a reason not to, finds Castle waiting on her with patient eyes that quickly go wide before his palm rises to cover them.

"Sorry, sorry, I should have asked if - I can come back for the clothes if you need to-"

"Castle, stop being a baby," she mutters, subduing her smirk and setting her damp clothes atop the bag slung over his arm.

His fingers part, his blue eyes sparkling behind the slots of his digits, and then he drops his hand entirely, lets her see the dopey grin splitting across his face. And without needing the confirmation, she knows it's not because she's standing before him in nothing but a towel, not because he's about to tease her mercilessly or offer up some inappropriate comment. No, he simply looks pleased that she's comfortable enough to allow it.

Another slap of thunder breaks the moment she never wanted and Castle glances back towards the open doorway of her room.

"Alexis and I are making a comfort food feast if you want to join us," he murmurs, backing towards the door and she nods, receives another genuine spread of his lips in return before he disappears.

And suddenly, she thinks she would prefer a meaningless leer over the tenderness that stains his features when he looks at her.

He wonders if Beckett put her underwear at the top of her clothing pile on purpose, if the convenient positioning of the fabric was a premeditated attempt at his murder. After all, he did nearly trip down the stairs when he noticed the black cotton with a lace trim peeking from between the soaked denim of her jeans. But when she comes downstairs in a well-loved pair of black leggings and an oversized grey t-shirt with warmth in her eyes and a small smile on her mouth, he decides that no, she must be prolonging his death for a while longer.

"What're you guys making?" she inquires, strolling into the kitchen and tying her hair back in a loose ponytail at her nape.

It's longer now, calls more urgently for the comb of his fingers, but then his daughter pops up from the oven beside him and he forces his treacherous arousal with timing as terrible as theirs to quiet.

"Chicken pot pies and some mashed potatoes," Alexis beams proudly. "And Dad is making grilled cheese as backup."

"Backup?" Beckett chuckles, propping her hip on the island, and she looks so at home in his kitchen, so comfortable, just as she had a few months ago, before the summer. It has his throat closing up.

Thankfully, neither Beckett nor his daughter take notice of the struggle he has in swallowing while he flips the cheese filled sandwiches in the pan.

"Yep, in case the power goes out and we need another meal. Though, we may have to eat it cold…"

"No wrong way to enjoy a grilled cheese," he finally manages to join in. "And you _did_ ask for the most comforting comfort food I could think of."

Alexis opens her mouth to comment, but the round of thunder cuts her off, the illumination of lightning outside the living room windows flashing in her eyes, and for a second, his teenager daughter has the frightened, wide-eyed gaze of a little girl.

Alexis has never liked storms, always being one to scramble into his room in the middle of the night throughout her childhood anytime the rain was too loud or the growl of thunder made an appearance. Eventually, she grew out of the common fear, even managing to appreciate the calming white noise of rain and the occasional roll of thunder with its accompanying flares of lightning, but a major hurricane threatening to rip apart the city? He doesn't exactly blame her for eyeing the windows with wariness.

Kate, though, drifts towards the glass display of the storm, her arms wrapped around her midsection as she assesses the torrential downpour splattering against the windows and soaking the city, the winds gusting and knocking over anything that isn't bolted to the ground, the light show playing across the pitch black of the evening sky.

"It's picking up," she murmurs when he parts from Alexis's side, joins Kate to examine the havoc wreaking outside. It's immediately apparent that she's right, that in the mere hour since they arrived at the loft, the winds have strengthened. Street signs are beginning to bend, roads turning to rivers, and as if by reflex, as if he does it all the time, Rick touches her waist, draws her away from the windows.

Kate glances to him in askance, but shockingly, she doesn't slap away his hand.

"I just read that it's better to stay away from the windows," he explains under his breath, not wanting to give Alexis any more reason to worry, but Kate's lips only quirk in a tired smile for him.

"Glad one of us was prepared for this thing."

"Work kept you busy?" he assumes, remembering how exhausted she had looked in the store and withdrawing his hand from the jut of her hip, watching with a mixture of confusion and a sharp stab of regret at the momentary frown tugging her lips down. As if she had wanted his hand to stay.

"Always," she recovers quickly with a nod, averting her eyes to his daughter in the kitchen, removing her carefully crafted pies from the oven. "Criminals never take the summer off unfortunately."

Summer - he's starting to despise the word, the season. It's the second he's spent apart from her and judging by the frown still drawn tight across her mouth, she enjoyed it just as much as he did.

"I should have called."

Kate's eyes dart up to see him and the intensity of her gaze steals his breath for a split second, hurt shining in her eyes as if he just poured salt in a fresh wound, but a glint of hope hides in the kaleidoscope of browns and greens, a shimmer of gold coming alive.

It's in her eyes that he notices the flicker of the lights; her eyes are the last thing he sees before the world goes black.


	4. Chapter 4

Alexis is a bundle of nerves at Beckett's side, sitting with her legs folded beneath her on the couch and her dinner cradled in her shaking hands. The power went out nearly half an hour ago, turning the loft into a cave of darkness lit only by the dance of lightning outside, but after Castle located the flashlights and the candles they had both bought fair stock of earlier in the day, it wasn't so bad. Kind of nice, actually, peaceful if you could block out the storm raging beyond the walls of the building.

Alexis couldn't.

Castle is in his office now, scavenging the shelves for a game of Scrabble he swears he "just saw yesterday", and Kate is still picking at her dinner, her appetite buried somewhere beneath her own nerves while Alexis's remain on full and tangible display.

Her relationship with Alexis has been pleasant over the past year of knowing the girl, but she doesn't want to make any assumptions, doesn't want to make his daughter uncomfortable with unwanted-

Alexis's plate nearly flies to the floor at the crackle of thunder that shakes the room. She regains her composure within seconds, taking a deep breath and gripping her plate with white knuckles before leaning forward to deposit the unfinished meal to the coffee table, shooting Kate an embarrassed look at the same time.

"Sorry, I know it's stupid-"

"It's not stupid," Kate assures her before the rest of the girl's stammered apology can leave her lips. "I totally understand. No one wants to be trapped in a hurricane."

Oh… that didn't help, not if the clutch of Alexis's fingers around her fork is any indication.

"But we're going to be okay," Beckett adds softly, gingerly reaching across the cushion between them to cover his daughter's rigid shoulder with her palm. "Your dad is as prepared as a person can be and the storm will pass. It'll probably be over by morning."

Alexis swallows as she nods along to Kate's reasoning, appreciation brimming in the arctic pools of her eyes. "Thanks Detect- Kate," she corrects quickly. "I've just never been a big fan of storms and I'm worried about Gram. I talked to her earlier and she swore that she and Chet were well-prepared too, I just…"

"Wish she was here," Kate finishes for her, squeezing Alexis's shoulder while she sighs.

"Yeah. I'm happy if she's happy, if living with Chet makes her happy, but I just got so used to having her around and I guess I expected to come home from the summer program at Princeton to everything being the way I left it." Alexis shifts back to rest against the sofa with a deep crease in her brow. "But everything changed over the summer. Everything's changing so fast."

"Hence the need for comfort food?" Kate murmurs, retracting her hand but propping it beneath her chin while she orientates herself towards Alexis on the sofa. His daughter sighs, indecision weighing heavy across her face, but just as the words bloom on her lips, Castle returns with a triumphant grin on his lips and the box of Scrabble tucked under his arm.

Alexis hides her disappointment well, sending her father an enthused smile that Castle seems to accept without a hint of suspicion.

"Ready to lose to the master, ladies?"

Kate scoffs, but squeezes Alexis's forearm, mouthing the word _later_ while Castle descends to his knees in front of the coffee table, begins unboxing the board game. His daughter nods, a grateful glimmer to her eyes as she grabs her plate from the table to transfer it to the sink.

Castle's staring at her when she returns her gaze to him, that terrifying tenderness back and alive and all consuming, but he hastily shifts his eyes to the board he's spread across the tabletop, conceals the expression with a smirk.

"Prepared for your demise, Beckett?"

"Only if you are, Castle," she plays along, relearning the game of back and forth they once knew so well, but while she's shifting on the couch to accept her letters, her fingertips dusting along his, she realizes how very tired she is of playing games.

* * *

"I demand a rematch."

"Dad, she beat you fair and square," Alexis singsongs from the head of the table, amusement flickering along his daughter's face with the candlelight. Focusing on the board game has stolen her attention from the storm for the last hour, her jumps and grimaces evoked by the rolls of thunder and howls of the wind becoming less and less frequent. "Don't be a sore loser."

"Yeah, Castle. It's just a game," Beckett muses from across the table, her lips curling into a devious little grin that does things to his insides, adds liquid fire to the heat already flooding his bloodstream. "At least accept defeat gracefully."

"I'll have you know I-"

The roar of the wind silences him, the sound so loud and daunting that he genuinely begins to fear the glass of the windows will break under the force of it, that the entire loft is in jeopardy. He knew he should have gone to the hardware store too, taken the precaution of boarding every square inch of each glass pane.

"Nobody panic, but I think we need to relocate to a windowless area," Castle states, meeting the unease rising in Kate's eyes like the floodwaters outside, anxiety creeping onto her face just as it slithers around his sternum.

"Good idea, Castle," she concurs, calmly, her voice level and in control, belying any fear that may be hiding behind her eyes as she rises from the sofa.

Alexis shoots up from her spot on the floor and snags the nearest flashlight, gravitating towards his side and clutching the back of his shirt as he stands, wrapping an arm around his daughter's shoulders and leading them towards his office.

"Where'd you have in mind exactly?" Beckett hedges from over his shoulder as they pass through the office, heading into his bedroom.

"My walk-in closet," he shrugs, subtly studying her blank expression. Her eyes roam over his bedroom with disinterest that he would swear is forced, but the corner of her mouth twitches and her throat bobs and… and if he didn't know any better, he would claim Kate Beckett was nervous to be inside his bedroom for the first time. "Unless you think the en suite would be better."

"No, you're right. Your closet is an enclosed space, less risk factors," Kate murmurs, following him and Alexis into the decently sized room lit by the flashlight in Alexis's hand, but pausing amidst his row of coats, looking wholly uncertain when he slides down the back wall with Alexis tucked into his side.

He tilts his head in invitation, maybe with a hint of challenge as well, which earns him a purposeful kick to his foot while she steps over his outstretched legs and eases down to sit beside him.

Alexis rests her head to his shoulder and exhales a trembling breath, her arm twined tight and secure around his. "We'll just sit tight until the wind calms down, Pumpkin. It'll be fine."

His daughter makes a noncommittal noise, not exactly convinced, but at least not panicking either. Kate doesn't seem to be exuding much worry herself, stretching her long legs out along his, flexing her bare toes beside his socked ones, coaxing a smile from his lips. Never would he have imagined he would end up jammed into his closet with his daughter and the woman he's wanted for the last year, and longer, if he's being honest with himself, but he doesn't mind. In fact, as Kate's shoulder sidles up against his, caressing his senses with the warmth of her body next to him and the scent of cherries in his nostrils, he's stupidly grateful for the unpredictable.

* * *

Twenty minutes pass and the wind no longer seems to muffle the rest of the world, the cacophonous duet of the rain and the booming thunder no longer drowned out. Castle volunteers to venture from the safety of their temporary shelter first, survey the rest of the loft and ensure that the hurricane winds have in fact returned to a less catastrophic speed, leaving Alexis and Kate to remain in the back of his walk-in closet. It should probably worry her that she doesn't mind so much, even enjoying the overwhelming embrace of his scent, the aftershave mixed in with his deodorant clinging to the fabrics hanging all around them.

Oh yeah. Definitely worrisome.

Alexis is quiet beside her, a thoughtful silence that Kate has a feeling isn't about the storm. Castle will be back soon, but his daughter is already pursing her lips, trying and failing to hold back whatever confession was nagging at her through dinner.

"It seems silly to even be thinking about this right now," Alexis sighs when she notices Kate's attention on her. "But there was this guy at the summer program and he said we'd talk once he got back from Europe, which he already did," she grumbles, tugging one of her knees close to her chest and propping her chin on her patella.

"Did you consider calling him?" Beckett probes, cautious, already noting Alexis's irritation and not wanting to add to it.

"A few times, but he's the one who went away," Alexis points out, her brow furrowing with frustration and hurt. "I mean, if he still cared, he would have called."

Kate's heart twists at that, all too eager to relate, but this isn't about her, isn't about the similarities between the boy from Princeton and the man whose closet she's sitting inside of right now.

"I think you need to ask yourself how much this relationship means to you," Kate murmurs, hearing movement at the door of the closet, but Alexis is watching her with imploring eyes, waiting and hoping for advice that Beckett isn't sure will help at all. "He should have called you, yeah, and you have every right to be upset that he didn't, but if you think he's really worth it, maybe he's worth sacrificing your pride for."

Alexis chews on her bottom lip, lowering her gaze and picking at the knee of her yoga pants. "I don't even know if I want to see him anymore."

"That's understandable-"

"Oh, come on! You're not even giving him a chance," Castle whines, crawling towards them on his hands and knees, the sleeves of his coats and dress shirts grazing his shoulders.

Through the simmer of annoyance she feels beneath the surface of her skin, amusement flickers in her chest, tickles at her ribcage. He looks like a child, like a little boy traveling to the back of the wardrobe, searching for Narnia but finding them instead.

"Castle," she warns, awareness coming to life in her bones as he cuts his eyes to her, a strange urgency in his gaze that she can't comprehend.

"Maybe he was going to call you all along, but he didn't know how you'd feel about him. Maybe he was worried that something had changed while he was away," he insists, but he divides his gaze between his daughter and Beckett, his eyes clouded blue and pleading each time they lock with hers.

"Why are you siding with him?" Alexis demands, her indignation flaring hot as she straightens up from her place against the wall.

"I'm - not. I just… maybe he'll do something that will make it right. Maybe he'll surprise you," Castle tries, so hopeful, but Alexis shakes her head in disbelief and stands from the closet floor.

"Well, maybe he missed his chance."

His daughter stalks off in Kate's first real witness of defiance, leaving clothing bristling in her wake and leaving Castle with a deep, dejected frown carving into his lips, looking far more disappointed than he should.

"Do you think she's right?" he asks, sinking from his knees to his rear, jabbing his elbows into his knees and lifting eyes that pierce like lightning, spearing her with a jolt of fatal electricity. "Has he missed his chance?"

Kate bites the inside of her cheek at the question, tasting copper on her tongue when she stabs too hard. They're not talking about Alexis and her boy trouble, she knows that, knew it from the moment he joined in on their private conversation with such tenacity.

"I'm not sure," she admits on a whisper, the cracks in her heart fissuring at the fall of his face, the downward cast of his eyes to the floor. "But you never know, maybe he'll surprise her. Maybe he already has."

Castle's eyes fly back to her, the renewed hope burning like blue flames in his eyes, so bright and fervent, but she's already moving to stand, pausing before she passes him to brush her fingers at his shoulder.

"Come on, Castle," she murmurs, taking his hand and tugging him to his feet. She could let his hand go now, he doesn't need her to physically guide him out of the closet; she could let him go, but she twines their fingers instead. "I've got the flashlight and I don't want to leave you alone in the dark."


	5. Chapter 5

Kate releases his hand once they're halfway through his study, sweeping her thumb along the bone of his before drifting away, a gentle laugh escaping her as she enters the living room.

"You seriously built a blanket fort?" she questions over her shoulder, the pearls of her teeth peeking from behind the upturned curve of her lips. "When did you even have the time to do this?"

"Dad's an expert," Alexis calls from inside, crawling out from the entrance he made of spare sheets between the two armchairs, any resentment from their disagreement in the closet put away for now. "He's been building these since I was a kid, so I'm pretty sure he could hold some sort of record for quick construction by now."

"I figured we may as well weather the rest of the storm in style," he shrugs, trotting around the outskirts of the fort and snagging the throw blankets draped across the back of the couch, ensuring the security of the sheet tucked into the leather furniture. "You know you like it, Beckett."

Kate scoffs, her arms crossed but mirth, and maybe even a little bit of approval, turning up the corners of her mouth.

"I'm going to go get the sleeping bags," Alexis decides, exiting the fort and clambering for the stairs.

"I am not sleeping in a fort with you," Kate declares once his daughter has disappeared to the upper level of the loft, where he knows she's digging through the hall closet, searching for the sleeping bags they often use for the flooring of their self-made havens.

"Because you're scared you'll like that too?" he teases, strolling towards her with the lazy smirk he knows she hates but is always most effective in annoying her. "Afraid of how much you'll enjoy cozying up to me in a fort made of my own soft sheets?"

"In your dreams," she retorts, already reaching for his ear as the answering remark forms on his lips.

He catches her wrist before her fingers can twist the delicate skin, strokes the protruding bone and circles the dull throbbing of her pulse, captivated by the hitch in her breath and the ripple of unmistakable arousal in her eyes, by the darkening dilation of her pupils as they dart to his lips.

Alexis's footsteps on the stairs have her backing away, dropping her gaze and pretending to examine the exterior of the fort while his daughter chatters about the extra pillows she found too, dragging him inside the tent with her to help prepare the interior while Kate wanders towards the kitchen.

He and Alexis are just about finished padding the floor with sleeping bags and lining the perimeter with pillows when Kate finally joins them inside, three bottles of water, a bag of M&Ms and a bowl of fruit cradled in her arm.

"Late night snack," she defends when he arcs his brow at her in amusement, catching the apple she tosses at him with a smirk.

They lounge in the fort for a while, sharing the varying fruits she stole from the bowl that normally resides on the kitchen island, passing around the snack size bag of chocolates, and relaxing to the sounds of the gentling hurricane outside.

"Any interesting cases while I was away?"

Her fingers pause at her lips, a bright blue piece of candy balancing there, while the rest of her body shifts away from him, as if he's broken some unspoken rule. Talking about the summer.

"I'm going to grab a book from your study, Dad," Alexis announces, either sensing the tension or suffering from boredom and making quick work of maneuvering her way out of the tent of blankets.

"There's always a few out of the ordinary ones," Kate mumbles in reply.

"Beckett flavored," he supplies, holding his breath at the ghost of a smile he gains, but it slips away all too soon and so does his hope of salvaging this conversation.

"You should call the boys," she states, dusting off some imaginary lint from her shirt. "Explain why you never kept in contact with them. Pretty sure they missed you. Especially Ryan."

Amusement and guilt battle for his attention, the neutral mask of her features doing nothing to help him decide.

"Were they both prepared for the storm?" he inquires, the guilt churning stronger through his insides now. The boys were his friends, had even started to feel like family in the last year of working alongside Beckett, but he had failed to communicate with any of them for the last three months.

"Yeah, Ryan left with Jenny to stay with some family in Vermont earlier in the week and Esposito decided to stay at the Twelfth as part of the storm response team," Kate explains, glancing towards the exit with pursed lips. "I was supposed to do the same, but Montgomery didn't think it was a good idea."

"I'm pretty grateful for his call on that one," Castle admits, expecting a response of irritation, but earning a faint lift of her mouth instead.

"I'm going to grab my phone from upstairs, see if I can get cell service now and call my dad, make sure he's okay," Kate murmurs, disappearing from the blanket fort without another glimpse in his direction.

Rick sinks back against the edge of the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest to smother the reopened ache throbbing there. This entire day, the entirety of his time with her, is starting to feel like a one step forward and two steps back kind of pattern, and he's starting to wonder if he was foolish for ever believing they could progressively move forward like this.

"Hey, is Kate okay?" Alexis whispers, slipping back inside their blanket fort with a thick mystery novel tucked beneath her arm. "Are _you_ okay? What happened? I was gone for three minutes."

"We're fine," he huffs, ignoring Alexis's exasperated glare. "I just keep saying the wrong things, I think."

"I thought saying the _right_ things was always your specialty," Alexis counters, plopping down beside him with a quirked eyebrow.

"Not with Beckett," he grumbles, putting on a show for his daughter and exaggerating the slump of his shoulders, the pout of his lips, but it doesn't require much effort.

"Pretty sure she's the only woman to ever leave you speechless," Alexis hums, flipping open the first page of the novel in her lap, but cutting her eyes sideways, awaiting his response. "And you know, maybe it's not so different for her."

Castle abandons all pretenses of feigning disinterest in his daughter's not-so-subtle musings, spinning his attention towards her.

"Why? Did she say something to you?"

"No," Alexis chuckles. "I just… I see the way she looks at you and the way you look at her, and I know you've always had a crush on Detective Beckett-"

"I did not," he hisses, earning a far too Beckett-like eye roll in return before his daughter continues on as if he never spoke.

"But I guess I never expected for it to be mutual," Alexis shrugs, diverting her gaze to the page of the book she's fiddling with. "Did something happen between you two, over the summer?"

Rick sighs, glancing towards the stairs, watching for the shine of Kate's flashlight, but the call to her dad must have gone through, because she has yet to return.

"No, that's the problem," he confesses, knotting his fingers together in his lap. "We haven't spoken since I left for the Hamptons and well, we didn't part on the best terms I suppose. We haven't talked about it, but I think… I think I hurt her somehow."

"By not calling?" Alexis supplies, narrowing her gaze and – and oh no, not fair.

"How was I supposed to know she _wanted_ me to call?" he whines, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "I'm not a mind reader."

"No, but Dad, you guys worked together practically every day. Didn't you miss her?"

"Of course I missed her. I wanted to call her, but I thought… I didn't think she would miss me back," he mumbles, feeling too much like the brokenhearted teenager in this conversation when it should undoubtedly be the other way around.

"She missed you," Alexis confirms, tilting sideway to prop her cheek atop the rounded edge of his shoulder. "She's just scared to say it."

* * *

Kate pauses at the stairs as Alexis's words float from the living room to her ears, her heart seizing in her chest with embarrassment, and she quickly backtracks down the hall, back towards the guest room.

The conversation with her dad had been brief, the bad weather severing their connection within minutes, but he had assured her of his safety in turn for promise of hers, a surprised smile in his voice at the news of where she had decided to seek refuge for the night. But she had smiled back while she had feigned annoyance, part of her already eager to return to Castle and his daughter downstairs.

Not anymore, though. Now, she was terrified to head back down, to enter the lit up canopy he's built to make this endeavor a tad easier on them all. Always managing to make every hardship a little more fun.

And now his daughter was spilling all of the secrets to him that she had never even acknowledged herself, convincing him that she had missed him too. Just like he had apparently missed her.

"Fuck," she groans under her breath, scrubbing a hand over her eyes, wishing the storm would cease so she could just leave, forget any of this ever happened.

The thunder crackles at her in response, white light illuminating the first floor just to taunt her, and she growls, curses them both.

"Beckett?" She startles in the hallway at the call of his voice from below, bumping against the wall and nearly knocking over a framed piece of art hanging behind her. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she replies before he decides to come investigate. "Be down in a second."

Kate hesitates but steals back inside the guest bedroom, striding for the bed and easing open the box of keepsakes she has nestled near the pillows. She withdraws the chain with her mother's ring, slips it over her head and pinches the wedding band between her thumb and forefinger, caressing the modest stone with her thumb before guiding it beneath her shirt, allowing it to rest over her heart.

Her mother always said life never delivers anything that we can't handle, but Beckett wasn't sure she could handle Richard Castle. But maybe… maybe she wants to try.


	6. Chapter 6

Alexis falls asleep first, unsurprisingly, her eyes drooping as she scans the page of her book. The commotion of the storm fails to faze her any longer, sending her crawling from the floor up to the couch he managed to encompass within the sheets he stole form the linen closet despite the padding of the sleeping bags on the ground, curling up with her back to him instead.

"Hey, everything okay?" Rick whispers once Beckett finally returns, wriggling inside the entryway as gracefully as one can manage, but she looks shaken, upset even, and oh god, he hopes Jim Beckett is alright.

"Yeah, Dad's safe and sound," Kate murmurs, crawling towards the middle of the fort and snagging one of the pillows from the pile off to the side, placing it behind her head as she reclines to lie on her back.

"Are you okay?" he rephrases, shifting around to find a spot beside her that provides an appropriate amount of space in the suddenly too small tent. "You really don't have to sleep in here, Kate. I was just trying to take Alexis's mind off the storm and I appreciate you playing along but-"

"Castle."

He shuts his mouth, waits on her, but her words stall for a long moment, her eyes resting on him, lackadaisical as she studies him without shame or apprehension. A tiny, unexpected smile flirts with her lips and he can't help but smile back, enjoying this sudden but gentler, unknown side to the hard edged, by the book detective who has always kept her emotions locked up behind the fortress around her heart.

"I'm good here, just tired," she finally answers, the low, raspy quality of her voice verifying her words.

Castle hesitantly eases down beside her, remaining half propped up by his elbow and dragging a pillow over just in case he's lucky enough to be allowed to sleep by her side.

"Hell of a day," he murmurs, hooking one of the throw blankets in his fingers and drawing it over their waists, earning a delightful quirk of Kate's lips. "But at least the worst of the storm seems to have passed."

Rick lowers his elbow to lie flat on his back, sighing as the day's worth of tension drains from his limbs, trickles down his spine and into the floorboards. Only to refill as Kate Beckett turns to lie on her side, turns into him. She doesn't speak and he doesn't dare ask, only watching in silent shock as she curls up against him, her cheek finding rest on his chest and her fingers climbing to splay over his sternum, over the frantic throb of his heart.

"Worst is over," she confirms through a yawn.

"I'm glad you're here," he confesses on a quiet breath, the words spilling out before he can catch them, and tentatively uses the arm around her shoulders to graze the ridge of her spine through the soft material of her t-shirt, because the wall she built up between them is gone for the moment, and she doesn't seem to mind. "So glad you came."

Kate's already succumbing to sleep, to delirious exhaustion, that has to be it, because she nuzzles further into his chest, the heat of her body draped along the entire length of his side and the lazy smile still on her lips.

"Mm, me too," she sighs out, the rise and fall of her steady breathing finding an even rhythm. "Glad you came back."

* * *

Kate comes awake at the too familiar crash of thunder, the flash of lightning and the slap of rain angry and thick against the living room windows, and reaches out, reaches for him, but the space beside her is empty. Her brow furrows and her fingers linger on the pillow where his head had rested, the indention of his skull still prominent but cold. She sits up carefully, remembering that Alexis is lying asleep only a few feet away on the couch, and scans the perimeter of the blanket fort he spent a brief portion of his evening constructing. But Castle is no longer inside.

Beckett frowns and pushes up onto her hands and knees, crawls towards the slit of the entrance. She slips from the blanket fort with bleary eyes, stretching on her tiptoes and extending her arms high above her head while she searches his living room, the kitchen, but still no sign of him. Until she notices the flicker of candlelight dancing behind bookshelves.

Candles had been lit in the kitchen, the living room, but he hadn't placed any in his office.

The soundtrack of the storm masks her footsteps, silences her entry into his study, but she falls still at the sight of him, deciding to be the one doing the staring for a change.

He stands near the window, automatically causing her nerves to clamor as the lightning forks through the sky, the glass separating him from the outside world not nearly enough to protect him, but Castle hardly seems phased. The flashes of light illuminate the cerulean seas of his eyes, casting shadows along the slope of his nose, the prominent set of his jaw, making him look older, rugged but mysterious.

"Storm keeping you awake?"

He straightens but doesn't startle at the breach of her voice through the calm the storm has created for him, his eyebrows hitching with delight in the reflection the window provides instead.

"You could say that," he shrugs, glancing towards her with invitation in his eyes, one she no longer wants to deny.

Kate crosses the candlelit office to join him at the window, following his gaze to the blackened city below.

"So strange," she murmurs from his side, marveling at the foreign darkness where city lights normally shine. New York is famous for being the city that never sleeps, a city of noise and illumination, but tonight, it's quiet and unlit. Unsettling. "Seeing it like this."

"Scary, but peaceful," he adds, his voice soft, as if he doesn't want to disturb the newfound tranquility. "Almost looks like the end of the world out there."

"Pretty depressing, Castle," she mumbles, earning a quiet chuckle as he shifts, brushes his shoulder against hers.

"I'm a writer, I have to be a brooding artist sometimes. Actually, the entire summer I-" His mouth snaps shut and Kate lifts her eyes from the splash of raindrops on glass to see the pained expression pinching his features.

"Castle?"

"Nothing, it - stupid example," he waves her off, nervously, but no, she's interested now, so she crosses her arms, arches her brow, and waits. He lasts approximately four seconds. " _Fine_. I just meant… well, I was brooding all summer. That's why Gina left after only a week. She didn't even want to be in the same room with me most days."

A _week_? Gina left after only – this entire time she had been under the impression that they had spent the last three months together, with Gina _on top of him_ while he successfully wrote the second Nikki Heat novel without a care in the world. While she spent her summer resenting him for it.

"Why were you brooding?" His jaw tightens, the calming sea of his eyes turning to choppy waters, but that isn't what she wants. She wants the man whose smile had illuminated the space of his car while they both sat soaking wet with rain, she wants the man who builds blanket forts for his teenage daughter to make her laugh through her fears, she wants the man who spent his entire evening watching her with eyes that shimmered with hope, with contentment and something else that petrifies her but has her heart stampeding in her chest at the same time. She wants the man who could love her. "Rick-"

"You," he confesses on a sigh, training his gaze on the raindrops racing down the windowpane, copying her posture and folding his arms over his chest, his heart. "Because I missed you."

Her heart is torn between sinking and leaping, the regret in his voice so strong, so unfair, that her own sorrow overcompensates, drowns any potential joy the admission had evoked.

"I missed you all the time and it made me miserable. Gina caught on to that pretty quickly, realized within those first few days that she hadn't exactly been my first choice," he sighs again, sounding so tired now, scrubbing a hand along his jaw and abrading his palm along the growing field of stubble. "But I thought it would get easier." Castle's forehead drops to the window. "It didn't."

Words, she owes him words, but her voice is lost, trapped and bottlenecked at the base of her throat. Her hands seem to work though, her fingers unfurling and drifting for his side, fisting in the fabric of his t-shirt.

Castle's eyes reluctantly abandon the window, assessing the hand at the sweep of his ribs before lifting his gaze to her, studying her with askance.

"I was going to say yes," she finally blurts. "To your offer, to the Hamptons."


	7. Chapter 7

The momentary flicker of confusion vanishes from his face, the sorrow that had filled the brackets of his mouth draining as his lips part in surprise.

"I broke up with Tom and I had planned to pull you aside, ask if you were still serious about even going, but then I was - I was too late and you-"

"You were going to say _yes_?" he chokes, so mournful as his arms fall apart in front of him, hanging limp and forlorn at his sides. "And you…but then I - oh god, I'm an idiot."

"No, Castle," she argues, stepping closer and adding her other hand to splay at the opposite side of his torso, feeling the lattice of his ribs expand beneath her palms. "No, I should have told you sooner. Way sooner."

"It doesn't even matter. We spent the entire summer apart. What if I wouldn't have run into you at the store, would we have even-"

She has to rise on the tips of her toes to reach his mouth, allowing him a mere second of warning before her lips are fusing with his, silencing his remorse. He catches her, his hands heavy and spread wide along her waist, but stands unmoving as her fingers travel up his torso, up to caress his jaw while her tongue caresses his lower lip, the weak barrier of his mouth. He opens on a moan for her, the sound seeming to set his entire body into motion – his hands drawing the length of her against him, pressing them deliciously flush, his lips bruising but gentle against hers, his tongue seeking hers with reverent need. So much need, but still so tender.

Kate hums with pleasure, her body singing with approval at the roam of his hands along her back, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt and finding bare skin, tracing her spine. Flames flicker to life beneath under the skim of his palms, electricity running through her veins, overwhelming sparks beginning to consume every inch of her skin.

Her fingers migrate to curl at the back of his neck, toying with the fine hairs at the base of his skull, and her lips curve against his at the soft sound of delight he releases, the blissful little noise shifting to a groan as she nips at his bottom lip with her teeth-

A fresh crackle of thunder outside makes her jump, leaves her unsure if the unsteady throb of her heart has been caused by Castle or the reminder of the hurricane still raining down over New York. But Rick still looks stunned, staring down dazed at her, flexing his fingers where they've wandered beneath her shirt.

"I missed you too." The truth spills from her lips before she can sanction it, but she's glad, relieved even, to give him the honesty he deserves.

Castle's hands slip from her shirt to frame her face, the pad of his thumb sweeping along her swollen bottom lip, and she takes advantage of her hands in his hair, cradling his skull and dragging him down. His breath coats her lips and her eyes flutter closed in anticipation, but just as his mouth descends to brush against hers, a loud humming that isn't coming from the vibrations of desire traveling through her veins has them both pausing in confusion.

"Kate, look," Castle murmurs, causing her eyes to open and follow his gaze towards the window. The storm is still raging, but below, the lights of the city slowly twinkle back to life, fighting for resurrection amidst the darkness. "Power's coming back."

The power in his home is already returning, the lamp in his office flickering, the soft light of the living room and kitchen bathing his loft in gold and part of her almost mourns the loss of intimacy the glow of candles and flashlights had provided, the return of power bringing with it the return to reality. But Castle's fingers dusting at her cheeks push her sudden wariness to the back of her mind, the apprehension in his eyes reminding her that this is what she wants, this could be her new normal.

"You should wake Alexis, see if she wants her bed," she suggests, coiling her fingers around the cool shell of his ear, caressing the delicate skin with her thumb.

The soft smile on his lips grows and he kisses her again, slanting his mouth over hers and slicking her bottom lip with his tongue, causing her to arch and chase him when he begins to pull away.

"Wait for me," he instructs, breathless, but it sounds far too hopeful to be a demand, too much like a question, and she nods, humming at the final smudge of his lips to hers before he's backing away, trotting into the living room and crawling under a canopy of blankets.

Staying in his line of sight, in Alexis's line of sight, looking so obviously impatient is probably a bad idea, so she wanders towards the open door of his bedroom, drifting towards the bed as she hears the muffled beginnings of a conversation. She had been allowed a glimpse of his room earlier, during their evacuation into his closet, but now, with the soft lamplight from his bedside table illuminating the space, she takes the time to appreciate it, to admire the masculine themes and reoccurring earth tones, the canvas painting of an elephant on the wall to the left that she warms to quickly, and the chocolate spread of his comforter.

Tasteful, a place she could see herself finding home in and _whoa_ , slow down, Kate.

Lightning flickers in the windows above the bed, but its thunderous companion has fallen quiet, diminishing to a low roar in the distance. The rain will likely continue deeper into the night, the wind too, leaving them to awaken to oceans in the street and devastation around every corner, but selfishly, the aftermath of the storm is far from her mind.

"Hey," Castle returns, hesitation blossoming in his eyes as he joins her in the bedroom, hiding the bloom of arousal upon noticing her standing beside his bed. "Alexis is tucked into bed, fell right back to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow."

"I don't blame her. She's had an exhausting day," Kate nods, dusting her fingers along the top of his bedspread, tracing the trails of white and orange dots decorating the inviting material.

"We all have," he agrees, his eyes locked on the path of her fingers. "Are you - did you want me to walk you to your room?"

Beckett's lips quirk. "Is that supposed to be the equivalent of walking me to my door?"

"Just trying to be a gentleman," he shrugs, his mouth teasing as it spills into a grin, and she abandons her spot near his bed, strolls towards him instead.

"I appreciate that," she mumbles, feathering her hands at his sides until her fingers snag in the hem of his t-shirt, sneaking underneath to stroke at the skin of his waist, the surprisingly toned flesh of his abdomen. "But I don't think I'll be going back to my room tonight."

His adam's apple bobs in his throat and she leans forward, places her mouth to the spot, soothes her tongue over the straining tendons of his neck.

"Beckett," he gasps, hands flying to her shoulders, his thumbs hooking in the sharp ridges of her collarbones. "Kate."

Her body hums at the husk of her first name in his mouth and she scrapes her teeth beneath his jaw, over the increasing thump of his pulse. "Hmm?"

"I - I want to take thing s-slow with you," he gets out, his hands migrating from her shoulders to her back, fanning out over the wings of her shoulder blades.

Kate lowers her fingers to his hips, curls them in the waistband of the dark denim of the jeans he's been wearing all evening, drags him along with her as she begins to walk backwards towards the bed. "Then we'll go slow."

The backs of her knees hit the mattress and she descends to the bed in a graceful backbend, drawing him down with her, piercing her bottom lip with her teeth at the press of his knee between her thighs as he lowers them. The weight of his body sinking onto hers is euphoric, her every nerve ending sizzling to life after too long of being dormant, arising only for the imaginative touch of his hands on lonely summer nights, and maybe he's right, maybe they should take things slow, he only crashed back into her life a mere handful of hours ago. But she would rather make up for lost time.

He gasps when her hips roll up to collide with his, a moan spilling past his lips onto hers as one of her legs twines around his thigh, encourages the reflexive thrust of his lower body.

"Not slow," he chokes, sucking on her neck even as he attempts to deter the work of her hips. "That's not slow at all."

"We can go slow, take everything else slow," she tries to compromise, cupping his jaw and drawing his mouth back to hers, sipping from his lips and slipping her tongue inside the wet, warm cavern of his mouth and reveling in the taste of him, in the wonderful sense of finally knowing how he tastes of coffee and mint, of cinnamon and freedom and something that could be more, something like home. "But I don't want to wait anymore for this," she confesses, panting as the dance of their mouths comes to an intermission.

She strokes her fingers along the plane of his cheek, over the delicate skin beneath his eye and the severe slope of his nose, the tiny scar above his eyebrow. Learning him, wanting to know every inch. "I just want you."

Castle turns his head, smears a kiss to her palm, the inside of her wrist, before he returns to worship at the altar of her mouth.

"You're all I ever wanted from the day you crashed my book party, Kate."

They go slow. Painstakingly, beautifully slow.

* * *

He wakes to the soft grey light of early morning, the patter of rain a quiet lullaby against the windows, and to the naked expanse of Kate Beckett's back smooth and uncovered, the dark spill of her hair over his pillows, and the heat of her body beside him.

So it wasn't a dream.

Rick slips his hand across the short distance of wrinkled bed sheets between them, maps the curves and contours starting from her nape, following the relaxed line of her spine to the dip of her lower back, the dimples of her spine and the bloom of purple residing there.

Kate hums, the bones beneath his hand stretching to life as she shifts in the bed, lifting her head from her pillow and orientating her body to face him. A lazy grin spreads across her lips as the hazy green pools of her eyes land on him, her leg flexing beneath the thin sheet, extending towards him and hooking around his calf.

"Morning," she rasps, and it steals his breath, how sated and dreamy she looks with her skin glowing and her hair tousled from his fingers from the hours they spent awake in his bed last night. He had honestly thought he would awaken to empty sheets, that she might even flee the loft and take her chances in the risky weather conditions outside rather than face the choices she made last night.

But she looks anything but regretful. Though, due to his lack of response, she does suddenly look a little worried.

"Castle?"

"You have a bruise," he states, stupidly, stroking his thumb over the mottled skin at the base of her spine where a shopping cart collided with her back yesterday afternoon.

"Doesn't hurt," she assures him, easing one of her arms from beneath her chest and reaching for the worried hand on her skin. He watches in quiet fascination as she drapes his arm across her waist, arranging him how she wants as she inches closer, the leg at his calf muscle hitching to curl at his hip.

Her eyebrows lift with challenge, the tip of her nose colliding with his as she smirks, and he disregards any intentions of approaching this morning after with caution, hauling her body tighter against his and slanting his mouth over hers.

Beckett moans in approval, canting her hips into the cradle of his and splaying a hand on his bare chest, nudging him to lie on his back and allowing her the opportunity to settle atop him.

"Morning," he finally responds, his blood simmering with need, but he's in no hurry to fulfill his desire, content to enjoy this lazy morning playfulness with her.

Kate nips at his chin, the corners of her mouth cutting into her cheeks. "How long do you think we have until Alexis wakes up? I'd like to make it back to the guestroom beforehand."

"Ashamed to be seen with me?" he huffs, coasting his hands down her sides, chuckling when she squirms.

"More like trying to avoid scarring your child," she growls, exhaling hot and fast against his cheek when his palms curve over her ass and squeeze.

"It's only six," he murmurs distractedly, sparing a glance to the battery-powered alarm clock on the nightstand while he kneads the firm muscles beneath his hands. "She'll sleep another hour or two at the least."

"The streets are going to be flooded for a while," she mumbles offhandedly, her hips picking up a slow rhythm.

His mind sparks with delighted understanding while his body ignites beneath hers, and he eagerly nods. "And there will be lots of damage. Aftermath. Not safe to be out in."

"Not safe at all," she concedes, combing her fingers through his hair and staining a kiss to his eyebrow, such an odd, intimate little act that he would never expect from her, that makes him want her more.

Castle withdraws one of his hands from her flesh to caress her cheek, pushing a curled lock of her hair behind her ear. "You feel safe here?"

The lust in her eyes softens, something deeper, something far more meaningful that he doesn't dare put a name to glowing behind the gold of her irises.

"Yeah, Castle. I do," Kate murmurs.

"Mm, then you may have to stay a couple of days after all."

"May need more than a couple of days." Her lips spread into a smile over his and it's like a live wire through his chest, straight to his heart and through the pathways of his veins. "We have an entire summer to make up for."


End file.
